


Tea Leaves and Transcendence

by Lightningpelt



Category: Naruto
Genre: (not that bad but... hidan yknow), (specifically sasodei and kisaita but only if you squint), Akatsuki - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Background Relationships, Blood and Gore, Dark Comedy, Explicit Language, Fluff, I..., Jashinism, Kakuzu is lonely, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, i wanted a coffee shop au but still murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/Lightningpelt
Summary: Kakuzu, having killed yet another of his partners, is forced to tag along with Itachi and Kisame. While he's less than thrilled by the frequent stops at tea shops, he has to admitslightintrigue when the owner of this one tries to sacrifice them all to his god.(In which literally everything is the same except that Hidan runs a tea shop.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ratt9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ratt9/gifts), [Edeleweiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edeleweiss/gifts).



> I guess this is my life now. 
> 
> **Warnings** for Hidan's gory religious nonsense, plus some mild-to-moderate sexual innuendo because that's just how Hidan's gory religious nonsense tends to end up. Also Kakuzu doing his heart-stealing-zombie thing, as he does.

Kakuzu’s scowl was mostly hidden behind his omnipresent mask, but the lines around his eyes deepened and wrinkled with the expression. He trailed several feet behind his companions, who for the most part ignored him in turn. 

“Wanna stop, Itachi-san?” Kisame asked, his fingers drumming idly on Samehada’s hilt. He tilted his head toward a quaint cafe at the edge of the village they were approaching; gave his partner a sideways smile. 

Kakuzu’s irritation was palpable; he glared at Itachi from behind as though he could influence the other’s answer. 

Itachi didn’t reply, but shifted his path ever so slightly towards the cafe. Kisame’s smile widened. 

“ _Again_?” Kakuzu glowered, unable to bite back his objection. “You two waste more time and money in cafes then—" 

“You’re the guest here, Zombie-san,” Kisame said, glancing over his shoulder. “How we go about our missions isn’t any of your business.” 

“While I’m here it is!” Kakuzu retorted, but Kisame remained unfazed; Itachi didn’t even turn. 

“If you stopped killing your partners, maybe you could stop tagging along with other pairs,” Kisame offered, and then shrugged as Kakuzu’s glare sharpened. “Hey, but don’t let me tell you how to live your life. Just don’t try to tell us how to go about our missions.” 

Kakuzu’s skin seethed with the stitches beneath it, but he had tried to fight Kisame Hoshigaki once before—and he hadn’t even made contact. Kisame’s partner, that deplorable Uchiha, had intervened. Kisame was strong—Kakuzu had been expecting a decent match—but Itachi Uchiha had them both outclassed. 

It wasn’t that Kisame hid behind his partner, but more that Itachi simply wouldn’t tolerate the fighting. Which left Kisame free to poke and prod at Kakuzu in ways that would’ve seen anyone else dismembered, their heart nestled securely beneath heavy stitching. 

Kakuzu gave a suffering sigh as they approached the little cafe. A respectable bounty was said to have taken refuge in the small town just ahead, which made the delay all the more intolerable. The cafe smelled like strong tea and homemade baked goods. A sign hung on the door, a strange symbol painted there in red—an inverted triangle within a circle. 

As soon as Kisame opened the door, a wave of malice hit the three shinobi. Kisame’s hand gripped Samehada’s hilt; Itachi’s sharingan whirled to life. 

Kakuzu’s eyebrows rose, and he gave a soft, “Oh?” 

The door swung the rest of the way open, revealing a single person within. The malicious aura died down as quickly as it had rushed them, though, like an isolated wind-gust, making it difficult to tell where it had originated. The shop's presumed owner stood behind a standard counter, three tables arranged before it—wooden, all, with no cloth decorations to be seen. On the floor, just in front of the counter, was a painted rendering of the same triangle-design that hung on the door. Behind the cafe owner hung a menu—simple, standard—and a hand-painted sign that read, “All Glory be to Lord Jashin.” 

“Welcome!” the man called, and flashed a toothy smile. 

Kakuzu examined him, even as Itachi and Kisame hesitated in the doorway. He looked young—early twenties, perhaps—but Kakuzu of all people knew that looks could be deceiving. He had silver hair—slicked back and well-groomed, clearly a source of pride—and a leanly muscled chest borne beneath a loose-fitting, open shirt. He wore a gleaming silver pendant—that same triangular symbol yet again. 

“Oi, oi!” he called, when the Akatsuki still lingered in the doorway. “C’mon in! I just made some dango—it’s best when it’s warm!” 

After a beat, Itachi stepped into the cafe; Kisame followed his lead, although he kept a casual hand on Samehada. Kakuzu, still trailing a bit behind them, kept his eyes fixed on the strange man. 

The man met his gaze suddenly—grinned again, and this time there was a sharp edge to the expression. Kakuzu’s stitches tingled. The man’s eyes gleamed dark maroon in the indoor lighting. 

“Green tea?” the man asked, when Itachi and Kisame had taken a seat. 

Itachi nodded. “Please. And dango.” 

“'Course,” the man said, with an odd little curl of his smile. If the initial sense of blood-lust had indeed come from him, he was good at concealing it. Kakuzu stayed standing beside the table, half to better watch the cafe owner and half because he refused to grant these little intermissions any sort of tacit approval. 

The man appeared from behind his counter a moment later; a faintly pink apron was tied loosely about his waist, and Kakuzu felt one of his eyebrows rise. The man moved well, his steps as soundless as might be expected of a civilian. _Or perhaps not a civilian..._ Kakuzu thought, observing the precision with which the man placed his feet. _What noise he’s making right now, he's_ choosing _to make..._

Kakuzu’s eyes drifted over the man’s body; came to rest on his wiry chest. He thought of the strong heart that beat behind the muscle and bone. 

The man set down a tray of fragrant tea and dango; from the approving way Itachi inclined his head, the man must have some level of culinary skill. 

“You folks aren’t from around here, eh?” the man asked, and Kakuzu thought he would be wiser to mind his own tea-making business. 

“Travelers,” Itachi said quietly, and took a small bite of his dango. Kakuzu suspected he was less relaxed than he appeared. 

“Ah-aaah! I see,” the man said, and glanced up at Kakuzu. His gaze shifted from the slashed hitai-ate on Kakuzu’s forehead down to his eyes, and he held his gaze. 

Kakuzu narrowed his eyes just a fraction—a dare. 

The man tossed his head lightly; continued, almost idly, “Have you _travelers_ ever heard of Jashin-sama, God of Suffering?” 

Kisame sipped his tea; leaned back a bit in his chair. “We’re a pretty godless bunch,” he said, and Kakuzu thought that he _might_ be as relaxed as he appeared—unwise. 

“Jashin-sama is always welcoming of converts,” the man continued, his eyes gliding over each of the Akatsuki members. Kakuzu reassessed the color of those eyes—not maroon, but a paler, more frenzied shade that probably didn’t have a proper name. “Suffering is the one thing all humans have in common—the one real truth in this world. That’s what Jashin-sama teaches. In order to understand one another, we must all share in the universal suffering. We must actively participate in each other’s pain to reach our highest state of enlightenment and, through enlightenment, ecstasy. Doesn’t that sound marvelous?” 

“We’re not interested,” Kakuzu growled, and the man’s eyes flicked up to meet his. 

“Oh? And how come?” 

“The only god I worship,” Kakuzu said, his voice low and deliberate, “is money.” 

“Heathen,” the man scoffed, although he didn’t seem particularly angry. On the contrary, his eyes had lightened even further—widened, and grown febrile. Kakuzu felt Kisame tense up, and Itachi’s sharingan had, at some point, activated. “Lord Jashin will appreciate you. You’ll all make beautiful sacrifices.” 

“Sacri—?!” Kisame began, but cut himself off when the man flicked a small scroll out of his sleeve; summoned a double-bladed scythe with a poof and a wicked smile. The Akatsuki members sprang up, but Kakuzu lingered near; watched levelly as the man twirled the weighty weapon. 

“Lord Jashin tells me you’ve _suffered_ , all of you!” he cried. “If you won’t follow His way, then go to Him as glorious sacrifices!” 

Kisame started to bring Samehada down from his back, but Kakuzu slid in front of him; said, “Let me have him. I’ve been so damn bored with your leisure and your tea.” 

Kisame hesitated, but Itachi had already taken a step back; after a beat, his partner fell in beside him. Kakuzu’s stitches squirmed. 

The light in the man’s eyes intensified, turning them a pale carmine, and his grin warped. “You’ll be the first to understand Jashin-sama’s blessings, then!” 

“I’m not interested in your religious babble.” Kakuzu’s foot slid back; he took up a stance. “Show me your skill.” 

“For the honor of Jashin-sama!” the man shrieked, and then leaped. 

It was a straightforward attack; Kakuzu gave a disappointed sigh. He analyzed the zealot’s path through the air, took into account the trajectory of that—admittedly fearsome-looking—scythe, and then detached his forearm. The threads beneath his skin shot out, propelling his stone-hardened fist through the base of the man’s chest. The punch cracked the last few ribs, then ruptured out the man’s back, even as Kakuzu shuffled out of range of any dying strikes with the scythe. 

“Pity,” Kakuzu rumbled, and then blinked as the man moved. 

“Ha... ha-ha...” The man’s frame shook with faint laughter, and then he tipped his head back; shrieked: “Fuck, that _hurts_!” 

“Oh?” Kakuzu asked, and then felt the threads of his detached arm grabbed; squeezed. The man’s nails scraped along them, drawing blood. 

“Jashin-sama...” the man cackled, even as blood drizzled from his own mouth. He shuffled back into the triangular design on the floor, then raised his hand to his mouth; lapped Kakuzu’s blood delicately off his fingertips. “Give me your blessing... allow me to send you this long-suffering heathen’s soul in divine offering...” 

“Oh...” Kakuzu said again, and despite himself felt his pulse quicken. He retracted his arm—pulling it free with a sticky _squelch_ —as the man’s skin stained slowly, turning a grim, skeletal pattern of black and white. “What’s this...?” 

“The blessing of Jashin-sama!” the zealot cried. “Behold! Let us share the ecstasy of ultimate suffering!” 

Kakuzu began to ask what he meant, but was shocked to silence when the man turned the gleaming scythe on himself. He drove it through his chest, through that strange, desirable heart of his, and threw his head back. 

Again, Kakuzu drew breath to ask a question, but a sharp pain behind his own ribs cut him off. He grabbed involuntarily at his chest; wheezed, feeling the heart that beat there fail as though it had been pierced by that deadly scythe. 

“It feels _good_...” the zealot moaned, and Kakuzu looked over to see him sagging but still standing. His eyes were rolled back, face twisted in profane revelry. He shook as if with the coming of a climax, then screamed, “Praise to Lord Jashin!” 

Kakuzu’s body, too, spasmed, and his legs buckled; as one heart—his primary heart—died, he fell hard onto his knees. He knew it would only take a moment for the other four to take up the slack—if he’d had just a moments’ warning, he could’ve avoided even that, shifting the role of his main heart to another. He would recover. 

But as it was, for a moment, he felt _death_ —the weightlessness, the gradual elevation past pain into pleasure—that the zealot seemed to be reveling in, and Kakuzu shivered. 

Then his other four hearts took over, one taking the lead as the new primary, and his vision refocused. He rolled his head forward, feeling his neck _crack_ with the motion, and then placed one hand solidly on his knee to push himself upright. 

The zealot snapped his head around, jarred from his revelry by Kakuzu’s unexpected moment. “Huh?! What the fuck?” 

“Your god doesn’t want me, it seems,” Kakuzu said, and dove forward. The man got his scythe up—wrenched it out of his chest—in time to block the devastating punch aimed for his face, but the force of the blow still knocked him backwards into the serving counter, splintering the wood. 

That apron of his was spattered with fresh blood, and Kakuzu realized that it’s faintly pink color must come from many slightly-inadequate washings. 

“Hahaha!!” The zealot’s face split in a manic grin; he ran a hand through his hair, smearing crimson through the silver locks. “You’re wrong, you’re wrong! Jashin-sama would take wonderful care of you! Wouldn’t you consider—?” 

Kakuzu shot out a fist, cracking through the zealot’s ribs and bursting a lung; the man gasped, eyes rolling back so that only bloodshot whites were visible. Kakuzu waited for the same wound to appear on him, but it didn’t materialize; after a moment, his eyes flicked down to the zealot’s feet, no longer planted inside the circular symbol. _Aah... so the ritual requires..._

Kakuzu withdrew; his forearm snapped back together, and he shook his hand to rid it of the worst of the blood. The silver-haired man slumped to his knees, alive but clearly struggling to breathe with only one functioning lung. 

“Gods don’t interest me,” Kakuzu said, and stopped short of saying, _But you do._ The man’s fevered carmine eyes gleamed with a post-coital bliss that made Kakuzu’s own stomach twist strangely, and his lips parted behind his mask. But then he turned; broke away, albeit with a deliberate effort, and stalked out of the cafe. 

“As expected from the zombie of the Akatsuki,” Kisame said, when Kakuzu appeared. Itachi was perched atop Samehada, his gaze dark and level. Kisame looked around. “No body? I’d expect a guy like that to have at lease a _decent_ bounty on his head.” 

Kakuzu shrugged. “I’ve never seen his worthless face in any bingo book. And I’m not dragging around any torn-up corpse for no reward.” 

Something in Itachi’s pitch black eyes made Kakuzu doubt how convincing his lie had been, and he half expected the zealot to begin shrieking from within the cafe—then, for appearances, he’d _have_ to return and finish the job. His pulse sped a bit at the idea. 

But Itachi didn’t challenge him, and there was no sound from within the cafe. Kakuzu didn’t look back as they began again to walk, although he did wonder if the zealot would recover from the fatal injuries he had sustained. 

It would be interesting, Kakuzu thought, if he did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLESS, thank you so much for the wonderful comments and support! <3 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter~

_Hidan of the Village Hidden in Hot Water,_ Kakuzu read silently, eyes flitting over the page. He’d just acquired a new packet of pages for his tattered bingo book, information on the latest bounties that had appeared. The old lady at the drop-off spot knew Kakuzu well, and had flipped to the one page specifically. 

“This one’s the biggest of the newbies,” she’d said, in a voice cracked with age and bloody experience. “Was wanderin’ around the countryside killing in the name of his god, for a while, but he’s disappeared of late. Settled down somewhere out of sight. Killed a good lot of his old comrades when he deserted his village. They’re willin’ to pay _nice_ for his head.” 

“Hot Water demilitarized, didn’t it?” Kakuzu had asked, his voice just shy of disinterested. “Turned tourist?” 

The old lady’s eyebrows had risen, but she’d nodded. Kakuzu had thanked her; departed. 

“Oi, oi! Keep up, hmm!” Deidara called, and Kakuzu looked up slowly from the reddish eyes on the page. He glared at the blonde, but issued no challenge—while it might be interesting to fight Deidara, Sasori hadn’t turned from where he was walking beside his partner, and Kakuzu was far less inclined to face the two artists together. 

So Kakuzu gave a suffering sigh, picked up his pace, and returned his attention to the silver-haired man on the page of the bingo book. While it came close, perhaps, the picture didn’t do him justice. 

“You should stop killing your partners, Kakuzu,” Sasori said suddenly, his voice dry and grating. Kakuzu glanced up at him. “I don’t appreciate having you along, no matter what orders we received from Leader.” 

It was true that Kakuzu had feel strangely like an intruder—a third wheel, even—since he’d joined the pair on this mission. The two artists would often get embroiled in passionate, intense debates—mostly about their respective art, but sometimes other topics as well—and ignore Kakuzu for hours on end. It wasn’t that his feelings ended up hurt, nothing so trite, but it got quite boring rather quickly. 

Kakuzu wondered if the silver-haired, red-eyed zealot was still going about his bloody religious business in the little cafe. Their mission had brought the three of them temptingly close to where the cafe was located, and Kakuzu thought he could see the exact hill if he squinted into the setting sun. 

“Oi! Kakuzu-san, hmm!” came Deidara’s demanding shout, and Kakuzu realized he’d fallen several feet behind again. “Keep up, old man!” 

Kakuzu felt the threads beneath his skin twitch with irritation, and he jerked his head toward the hill. “Let’s head that way. There’s a little town where we can spend the night.” 

“Tired?” Sasori asked, his voice dull and unimpressed. “Perhaps you’ve finally decided to act your impressive age and retire?” 

The threads on Kakuzu’s forearms loosened, but he forced his breath out in a long, suffering sigh. “No point in wearing ourselves out before we reach our destination. There’s a nice traditional cafe there, too, right at the base of that hill. Good tea.” 

“You’ve spent too much time with _Itachi_ ,” Sasori scoffed. “Him and his tea.” 

“Aah, Danna, you just don’t remember what it’s like to have achy feet at the end of the day, hmm,” Deidara said, and then shot Kakuzu a wink. 

Sasori’s tail flicked as though with organic annoyance. Not for the first time, Kakuzu wondered what his real body looked like, within the puppet. “... Fine. Your treat, though, Kakuzu.” 

Sasori knew where his sore points were, and Kakuzu ground his teeth. But he shut his bingo book and said, “If you insist, Sasori-san.” 

As they approached what Kakuzu had fancied was the right hill, he was relieved to see the little shop still standing. Light shone through the window, bright amid the shadows of dusk, and Kakuzu felt his pulse quicken. 

_But is it still the man... “Hidan”?_

Deidara trotted up the steps, asking, “This is the place, yeah?” before slipping inside. Sasori followed, though Kakuzu hesitated, trying to sort out the excitement stirring in his guts and the unpleasant quickness of all five hearts. Shaking his head slowly, he climbed the steps. 

That triangular symbol still hung on the door. 

“Welcome!” called Hidan, from behind the counter. His eyes flashed to Kakuzu, but he addressed all three with a spreading of his hands. “Evening! C’mon in, sit on down! I’ll fetch tea!” 

Deidara obeyed, calling out questions about the menu, to which Hidan replied in cheerful kind. When he stepped out and approached the table, Kakuzu noted what a darker scarlet his apron had become. Sasori seemed on-guard, although he was understandably difficult to read. 

Kakuzu, for his part, felt edgy. He couldn’t tell whether Hidan was doing a slightly worse job of hiding his bloodlust than before or if his own nerves were simply acting up. 

_Hidan, Hidan, Hidan—_ The name echoed through his mind in time to his hearts, which had fallen slightly out of sync. Hidan’s leanly-muscled chest was borne, just as before, the pale skin unmarked by the wounds Kakuzu had inflicted when last they met; unmarked, too, by the wounds Hidan had inflicted on himself—the wounds that had then reflected on Kakuzu’s stitched-up body. 

Kakuzu took a seat beside Deidara, leaning forward with his chin on one palm. The tea Hidan had set on the table wafted up fragrant, earthy-green-smelling steam. 

“Bakudan and sake for you...” Hidan said, hands on his hips as he turned from Deidara to Sasori, “and... whew!” 

“What?” Sasori ground out, and Deidara snickered. 

“My Danna’s not as grumpy as he looks,” Deidara said, waving one hand. “But don’t take it personal when he doesn’t eat your food either, hmm.” 

“You have _suffered_ , haven’t you?” Hidan crooned, and Sasori’s tail stiffened; curled up. But just as quickly Hidan seemed to shake off the thought, turning to Kakuzu. “You keep quite the interring company!” 

Kakuzu opened his mouth, but was suddenly thankful it was concealed behind his mask, as no words emerged. It took him a moment, indeed, to figure out _what_ to say. “I find them quite dull.” 

Hidan _laughed_ —it was a crisp, slightly unhinged sound, but as bright as the full moon on a clear night. “Really? High standards!” 

“I find _you_ fascinating,” Kakuzu said matter-of-factly, and Deidara spat out his tea. Kakuzu didn’t mind the reaction, though, because the comment was rewarded with another of Hidan’s laughs, this one nearly giddy. 

“Because I got my picture published?” Hidan guessed, with a nod toward the booklet hanging slightly out of Kakuzu’s pocket. 

“That’s certainly not working against you,” Kakuzu replied, appreciating Hidan’s keen observation; appreciating his keen carmine eyes more. 

“You dragged us out here so you could chase a bounty?” Sasori growled. 

Deidara, at the exact same moment, exclaimed, “You dragged us out here so you could _flirt_?!” 

Hidan licked his lips. “Have you given any more thought to the Way of Jashin-sama?” 

“Gods bore me more than anything else," Kakuzu replied. 

That scroll dropped from Hidan’s sleeve, and Kakuzu barely flung himself backwards in time to avoid the double-bladed scythe. Deidara gave a shout of surprise as he and Sasori both sprang away, as well. 

“Clearly you need to experience it again!” Hidan cried, swinging his scythe without a care for what it might hit. “The divine suffering! The gift Jashin-sama bestows upon his most devout believers!” 

“I have no need of your sham god’s trivial favor.” Kakuzu’s eyes narrowed, and he kept his voice level even as his hearts pounded—out of sync, just enough to make him slightly dizzy with the sporadic rushing of blood. 

“You’ll pay for such blasphemy!” Hidan screamed, his grin flashing like the lethal blade of a weapon. He flung himself forward, his scythe singing through the air. “Repent!” 

“Shut up,” Kakuzu rumbled, then ducked the strike. He slid beneath Hidan’s guard—sloppy, too eager, exposed—and slammed a palm-strike up into Hidan’s ribs. Hidan’s breath huffed out, along with a spatter of blood, and he went sailing into the wall. 

“Hey, hey!” Deidara shouted, as Kakuzu straightened. “What the hell is going on with you two, hmm?!” 

“Oi-oi!” came Hidan’s voice, and he emerged from the dust with a cross shake of his head. He motioned furiously to the dent in the wall. “I’m gonna have to get that damn thing fixed, or people’ll be suspicious second they walk through the fuckin’ door!” 

“Pity,” Kakuzu drawled, and feigned a yawn. “No one buys your cute little cafe-owner act, anyhow.” 

“Hey, I put on a _damn_ fine show of it when I want to!” Hidan objected. “Besides, then I can tell people about the Way of Jashin and _then_ decide if they’ll make converts or sacrifices!” 

“Oh. And I suppose you’ve gotten so much as a _single_ convert?” 

“The Way of Jashin isn’t easy! That’s why people need to be shown suffering, to understand each other! And the ultimate pain makes the sweetest offering to Jashin-sama!” 

“So no. Not one convert.” 

“I think I got one!” Hidan blustered. “... We’ll see.” 

“Oh?” 

“You came back.” 

Kakuzu’s eyebrows rose. “I did.” 

“Yeah!” Hidan snapped. “So! I mean!” He seemed entirely unsure what to follow that up with, pointing his scythe at Kakuzu and shaking it furiously. “So devote yourself! Or fight me, you piece of heathen shit!” 

“I’ve no interest in your god,” Kakuzu said again, and Hidan’s eyes lit with passion. He flung himself at Kakuzu again, this time staying lower. They traded several blows, Kakuzu’s threads deflecting the scythe-strikes, and Hidan’s laughter rose with manic delight. The sound made Kakuzu’s bones vibrate with pleasure. He felt the blade nick his shoulder—such a minor injury, in any other situation, and _yet_ —

“Hahaha!!” Hidan sprang backwards, landing in that circle on the floor. It occurred to Kakuzu that he could simply knock him out of it, but some bizarre part of him _wanted_ the ritual to occur once more. He took a step, but stopped as Hidan licked his blood off the scythe’s tip. The cursed coloring, black and white, spread across his skin like a dark stain through clear water. “Let’s share the ultimate suffering once more!!” 

“It won’t work,” Kakuzu said flatly, and felt his heart rise in his chest—it was more nervous, it seemed, than he himself was. No wonder—it was about to be sacrificed. Kakuzu thought he should pick another to be the primary, but that could wait; that could wait. 

Hidan laughed, delighted and manic, then smashed the butt of the scythe down on his right shin. Kakuzu gasped with surprise, dropping onto one knee and clutching at the injury. Hidan slammed the blunt end down onto his left foot, shattering the delicate bones, and Kakuzu’s eyes widened as he crumpled. Hidan sunk, more controlled, onto his knees, and raised his hands. “Praise be to Lord Jashin! Let us suffer _beautifully_!” 

Kakuzu’s eyes narrowed, pain searing up from both his legs. _I underestimated..._ he thought grimly. Losing one heart was tolerable, but if Hidan incapacitated him totally, he would be in a position to pick off all five. _... Come forth!_

Kakuzu’s fire mask squirmed loose from his back, and Hidan’s eyes widened as he watched the Akatsuki cloak bulge and then rip around it. He gave a soft, “Oooh!” as the masked beast emerged, shaking itself as if growing used to freedom. 

_Fire Style: Searing Migraine!_

The mask opened it’s mouth, sending a stream of fire towards Hidan. Hidan twirled his scythe with a delighted whoop, dispelling the flames before they reached him. 

“Don’t burn the place down!" he shouted. "Fucking hell!” 

“You didn’t have to break my legs. I wasn’t going anywhere.” 

Hidan practically beamed—his grin grew, though oddly it didn’t warp. “See?! You _did_ come back, after all!” 

“Which has nothing to do with your foolish god,” Kakuzu retorted, and then gasped; was caught off-guard as Hidan drove the scythe through his chest. 

“Revel, heathen, in the ultimate suffering!” Hidan cried, his own voice breathy with the damage done within his ribcage. “Experience enlightenment!” 

Kakuzu clutched involuntarily at his chest; his head dropped back. Although the fire mask was unaffected, it fell still with the lack of direction. Kakuzu felt his heart struggle, for a moment, to persist, then fail; he felt it stop. He body grew light, heat fading and replaced with an ephemeral chill. He shivered. 

“Oh yeaah...” Hidan moaned, shaking as he raised his hands. The scythe protruded from his chest. “P-Praise Jashin...!” 

Hidan’s hedonistic fit made Kakuzu’s threads writhe with vicarious pleasure, and he caught himself groaning, low and hot. But already another heart was beginning to take over, and blood rushed back into his cold veins. He shuddered, eyes unfocusing and then refocusing; meeting Hidan’s salacious gaze. The zealot’s breath rasped, wanton drool dripping from his open mouth. His tongue, still pink despite his transformation, lolled. 

Kakuzu’s blood rushed suddenly hotter, his whole body feeling uncomfortably flushed. There was the deep ache in his chest, and then the searing pain in his leg; his foot, the bones pulverized, had gone mostly numb, but would undoubtedly revive in agony if he tried to put weight on it. 

“What do you think?” Hidan asked, his voice breathy and reverent. He gulped in some air, shivering with leftover rapture. 

“Nothing to it...” ground out Kakuzu, although he was sure his eyes said differently. Hidan’s lazy, indulgent grin seemed to confirm that. 

“Jashin-sama would take such good care of you... So would I...” 

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” Kakuzu said, and the fire mask reared up behind Hidan. It knocked him forward, sending him sprawling out of the ritual circle with a yelp. Kakuzu hardened the flesh around his broken bones, holding them together while he sprang back. Hidan rolled onto his back to fend off the fire mask, cursing with surprise and irritation. 

Before he could second-guess himself, Kakuzu snatched up his shredded Akatsuki robe and flew out the door. He skidded, unintentionally, to a halt between Deidara and Sasori. 

“What was _that_ about, hmm?!” Deidara demanded, even as Kakuzu felt the fire mask land a decisive blow. He saw in a flash, through its half-functional eyes, it’s threads run Hidan clean through. Hidan choked, gasping as stomach and lungs and intestines ruptured. 

He still grinned, though, because Kakuzu had avoided his heart. He grabbed at the threads with blood-slick fingers; whispered something that Kakuzu couldn’t hear. The fire heart withdrew, then, slithering out of the cafe and plunging back into Kakuzu. 

Then Kakuzu, too, smiled, and was grateful for his mask. If Deidara caught him with such an agreeable expression, he’d _never_ live it down. 

“Let’s head into town,” he said, his tone as gruff as always. “I’ll pay for the inn for tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll see everyone very soon in the final chapter! I do hope to hear from you in the comments~ 
> 
> Thank you for reading! ;w;


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Wow kinda late finishing this one, aren't I? Deepest apologies!~~
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed this odd little AU! :'D

“You have a lead? On a new member? How unlike you...” 

Leader seemed skeptical, but Kakuzu had never been intimidated by him—wasn’t about to start. “He’s got... potential.” 

“And I suppose, since you’re the one currently without a partner...” 

Kakuzu nodded. 

Leader sighed, a crackly noise through the astral projection they were using to speak. He rubbed lightly at his forehead, then said, “Can you guarantee you won’t just kill him? I don’t feel up to wasting resources—on an untested commodity, no less—if he’s going to just become one of your hearts in a week’s time.” 

“He’s not that easy to kill,” Kakuzu said, and Leader’s head tipped to the side. 

“That’s not the most convincing way of phrasing it. Sounds like more of a challenge than a guarantee.” 

Kakuzu gave a gruff chuckle. “You won’t regret it, Leader.” 

After a moment, Leader sighed again; waved his hand. “Go. Bring him back. We’ll see.” 

Kakuzu inclined his head. “As you say.”

... ... ... 

Hidan was wiping down the counter, his back to the door. When Kakuzu entered, he didn’t turn.

“By yourself today?” 

Kakuzu felt one of his hearts beat early; another, late. It gave him the uncomfortable feeling of pattering in his chest. “Yeah. What’s good?” 

Hidan hummed thoughtfully. “You like raw things? Liver, maybe? Got some in today—very fresh.” 

“My favorite.” 

“That suits you.” 

Hidan finished washing the counter, taking his time; Kakuzu thudded down at one of the tables. When Hidan came over, he dropped off plates and a jar of sake, then moved to latch the cafe door. He returned, dropping into the seat opposite Kakuzu and pouring the rice wine. Kakuzu could tell from the scent that it was expensive. 

“Have you given the Way of Jashin any more thought?” Hidan asked, his red eyes gleaming as he sipped his sake. “That’s why you came back, right?” 

“Your god still doesn’t interest me,” Kakuzu said, and Hidan looked momentarily disappointed. “I’ve come with a proposition for _you_.” 

“Oh?” 

Kakuzu nodded, then pulled down his mask to take a bite of the thinly-sliced liver. It was rich, and melted on his tongue. 

Hidan gave a low whistle. 

Kakuzu narrowed his eyes a bit. “After you’ve seen my back, this shouldn’t be anything at all.” 

Hidan shook his head slightly, then popped a piece of meat into his mouth. “S’not that,” he mumbled, wagging a sauce-smeared finger in Kakuzu’s direction. “You’ve just got a way more attractive face than I would’ve thought.” 

Kakuzu stiffened with surprise, but the comment seemed off-handed; seemed honest. While he found Hidan undeniably attractive, the idea that the feeling was mutual hadn’t even occurred to him. It confounded him. 

“The Way of Jashin would be perfect for someone like you,” Hidan carried on. “Suffering unites us, and pain is the only truth. You already understand that. And someone like you, you can experience the _ultimate_ release over and over again. You would be able to make _glorious_ sacrifices to Jashin-sama. Like me.” 

Kakuzu’s fingers drummed on the table. “I’m not here to talk about your damned god,” he said, although remembering the almost-intoxication of ritual that he’d experienced with Hidan twice before. The zealot’s words didn’t seem as absurd as they should have. “Have you ever heard of the Akatsuki?” 

“Now why would I join a group like that?” Hidan asked, a patronizing edge to his smile. “Tell me. Why?” 

“Protection. You ‘got your picture published,’ like you said.” Kakuzu tapped the bingo book that he’d placed casually on the table beside him. “People will find this place, sooner or later. Then you’ll be on the run.” 

From Hidan’s reaction, he’d already considered that. “Yeah, so?” 

“So join the Akatsuki. It’ll be much harder for bounty hunters and the like to come after you.” 

“I like the way I live,” Hidan replied, taking a messy bite of his food. When he spoke, his mouth was still full, and Kakuzu grimaced. “Besides, it’s not like I can die. Anyone comes after me like that, they’ll just be another sacrifice for Jashin-sama.” 

“You’ll get to kill a lot of people, with the Akatsuki,” Kakuzu said. “Probably more than wander into this place.” 

Hidan’s eyes sparked with interest, but then he shook his head. “I’ll bet not everyone in the group would be okay with that. And if they tried to stop me from worshiping Jashin-sama, then I’d have to kill them, and I’ll bet you guys don’t take too kindly to infighting.” 

“There’s infighting all the time, firstly,” Kakuzu said, and then chose his next words carefully. He took a drink of his sake; paused to fully appreciate the flavor. “Secondly, the Akatsuki operate in two-man cells, on a day-to-day basis, so as long as your partner doesn’t take major issue...” 

Hidan’s lips curled, cunning; sly. “My partner, ehhh?” 

Kakuzu felt himself grow hot; hoped, fervently, that it wouldn’t show on his darker skin. “That’s right.” 

“Should I assume that’d be you?” Hidan leaned forward, chin resting on one palm. His eyes were half-lidded. “A grizzled, godless bastard who’s too concerned with money? And why don’t you already have a partner, huh? Hard to work with?” 

“I’ve killed the past four they’ve given me.” 

Hidan blinked, genuinely startled; his head lifted from where it rested. “No shit.” 

Kakuzu raised an eyebrow. 

Hidan chuckled, then began to cackle, leaning back and letting his head hang. The position left his pale throat exposed, and Kakuzu felt a killer’s instinct rise up in him. He wanted to bite that throat; he ran his tongue along his teeth in an attempt to quell the bizarre urge. 

“That’s great!” Hidan exclaimed, his grin wild as he faced Kakuzu once again. “Jashin-sama must be so pleased!” 

“I didn’t do it in the name of any god,” Kakuzu muttered. He picked at the bloody liver on his plate. “They were just weak.” 

“And you don’t think I am?” 

Kakuzu scoffed. “I don’t think that matters. You can’t die.” 

Hidan’s grin widened. “Wow.” 

“Wow?” 

“You’re something else,” Hidan said, slouching down onto arms folded atop the table. Again Kakuzu felt that strange flush of heat. “So I’d be your partner?” 

“Yes. The type of work—" 

“I’ll do it.” 

Kakuzu tilted his head. “Just like that?” 

“Just like that,” Hidan said, with a chuckle. He stood up, hands pressed flat to the table, and leaned in over Kakuzu. Kakuzu drew back just far enough to comfortably maintain eye-contact. “As long as I can do Jashin-sama’s will, I don’t care.” 

His lusty smile spoke to other intentions, but Kakuzu couldn’t be sure he was reading that right—not sure enough to react, certainly. “Good. We’ll head back, then, whenever you’re ready.” 

Hidan chuckled, leaning closer; Kakuzu growled softly at the affront on his personal space. “Besides that,” Hidan said, “I bet I can make a convert of you eventually.” 

“Don’t hold your breath,” Kakuzu grumbled, and then swatted Hidan’s hand away when it moved towards him. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“Stupid?” Hidan said, with mock offense. “C’mon, old man. You must like me at least a _little_ , to go to all the trouble.” 

“Fool.” Kakuzu turned his head away, and then started when a pair of pliable lips pressed against his scarred cheek. Hidan’s teeth nicked a stitch, pulling it slightly out of place. Kakuzu lashed out with a stone-hardened fist, but Hidan leaped back in time to avoid it. 

“I’ll go get my stuff!” Hidan called, skipping backwards towards the counter. He vanished into the back room, leaving Kakuzu to stare, slack-jawed, after him. 

_Well..._ Kakuzu’s cheek tingled where the touch had been, and he tried—failed—to remember the last time someone had touched him in a non-violent way. He’d forgotten what skin-to-skin contact even felt like. _And why... would he...?_

Kakuzu finished the liver sashimi and sake while he waited, and was standing ready at the door by the time Hidan reappeared, a single worn bag slung over his shoulder. Hidan knelt down; scrubbed at the ritual circle on the floor until it was unrecognizable. He left the sign praising Jashin, however, hanging where it had always been. 

“Finally ready?” Kakuzu asked, pulling up his mask and pushing the door open. 

Hidan came unnecessarily close as he brushed past, tossing a cheerful, “Let’s go!” over his shoulder. 

Kakuzu stood frozen for a moment, overwhelmed by the heady scent of blood and fresh earth and green tea that rolled off of Hidan. The threads beneath his skin squirmed—an uncomfortable but pleasant sort of unrest. 

“Oi, Kakuzu!” Hidan called, waving. “Or are you thinking you’d rather run off with me and pursue the Way of Jashin?” 

Hidan’s smile was like flickering sunlight, just slightly different from moment to moment—perhaps a bit unhinged, by that same token, but beautiful. Kakuzu shook off the effects with an effort; scoffed, and started down the road after Hidan. 

“How far is it?” Hidan asked, although he didn’t wait for an answer. “Those guys you came in with before are all Akatsuki, right? Do you think any of them would like to hear about Jashin-sama? The puppet-master is _really_ sad, y’know. But he might not want to make offerings, he might just do better _being_ an offering. He’d be at peace, then. The blonde kid who was with him seemed enthusiastic, but he doesn’t really know suffering, not yet. But we could work on that. And that _fucking_ Uchiha you came in with the first time— _wow_! Wow, wow, Jashin-sama would really love him—he’s suffered beautifully, he’s _still_ suffering beautifully! And the blue-skinned fellow who was with him, he’s a killer, for sure, but I’m not sure how he’d take to dedicating himself to a god...” 

Kakuzu wasn’t listening, not closely; for the time being, Hidan’s chatter served as a pleasant white noise, but he had a nagging suspicion that it would grow tremendously annoying with time and familiarity. Still, for the time being, Kakuzu bore it willingly. 

_Wait..._

Kakuzu froze suddenly; Hidan made it a few steps before he noticed, turning back and cocking his head. 

“What? Tired already, old man?” 

“You called me by name,” Kakuzu said, though more bewildered than accusatory. 

Hidan blinked, then grinned. “Aaah, shit, slipped up...” he said, running a hand through his hair and scratching at the scalp. “I didn’t have to look far. You’re in the bingo book, too. So’re most of your Akatsuki fellows.” 

“How prudent of you, to check up on us,” Kakuzu said. 

Hidan laughed at that—shrieked, practically. “Prudent? Fuck, no, I was just curious. That’s all.” 

“What do you know about me?” 

“Not all that much.” Hidan shrugged. “Name—Kakuzu. Affiliation—Akatsuki. S-Rank missing nin. You come from Waterfall, but your history isn’t really known. There’s no info on your techniques, either. Gotta be fearsome, though, considering the S-Rank and some of the bounties you’re said to’ve claimed.” 

Kakuzu nodded slowly. “But you’ve seen me fight for yourself. What’s your guess?” 

Hidan’s expression brightened. “I’ve killed you twice!” he exclaimed, and then chuckled. “You’ve got spare hearts. Not sure how, but I’ve _felt_ your heart go, twice, and you’re still alive. Oooh, it was so _good_...!” He shuddered visibly; clutched his shoulders. “To pierce my heart, to feel yours pierced, to _die_ with you, to share divine truth in ultimate pain of death!” 

Though Kakuzu felt similarly, he wasn’t about to admit to that. “I have five.” 

“Five!” Hidan exclaimed. “Can they all move independently, like that cute little creature that crawled out of your back? That was one of them, right?!” 

_Cute...?_ Kakuzu thought, amused. He was far more used to people being repulsed by what he’d done to himself, though Earth Grudge Fear. But Hidan seemed fascinated—enraptured, even. 

“Four can move independently. They correspond to fire, water, wind, and lightning affinities. One stays with me—the dominant one. That’s the one you’ve run through twice.” 

Again Hidan shivered, remembering, and he mumbled a half-formed prayer that sounded like gratitude. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to become familiar with one another’s skills,” Kakuzu said eventually. “I’ll warn you, though, I’ve never been much good at teamwork.” 

“Me neither!” Hidan waved a hand dismissively. “Well, at least we won’t accidentally take each other out, eh?” 

“Hmm...” Kakuzu agreed, although the beginnings of a strategy flickered in his mind. _The enemy would never expect..._

“Oi, Kakuzu!” 

Kakuzu glanced up; was momentarily unbalanced by how the Jashinist symbol glinted against Hidan’s exposed chest. He pictured of the fine heart beneath pale skin and lean muscle and resilient bone, and thought that he’d love to feel its beat—perhaps not to yank it out by the veins and hold it in his hands, but at least to press his palm against living flesh and feel its steady rhythm. 

“Coming,” he growled, and then moved to catch up. Hidan fell agreeably into step beside him. 

“So are you the leader? Of the Akatsuki?” 

Kakuzu shook his head. “That’s Pain. We just call him ‘Leader’ most of the time.” 

“Really? Someone as strong as _you_ takes orders?” 

Kakuzu scoffed. “If I fought Leader, I’d die—for real. But that won’t happen, and I’m not afraid of him—I’m sure I could slip off, if things got serious. Itachi is stronger than me, also. He’s the one you _really_ don’t want to cross.” 

“Thanks for the warning.” Hidan was walking entirely too close again—his turned-earth-and-fresh-blood scent was everywhere, and beneath it hints of expensive anointing oils: patchouli and frankincense. He smelled of death and religion, and just a whiff of fragrant green tea, and Kakuzu’s head spun with it. 

When Kakuzu didn’t speak, Hidan began again. “So you’ve killed your last four partners? Doesn’t your Leader kinda not like that?” 

Kakuzu shook his head. “No. He can’t do anything about it, though.” 

“I suppose you’re a valuable member, hmm?” 

“I’m the only one of them who’s any good with money. I handle the group’s finances.” 

Hidan laughed. “I shouldn’t be surprised... There are more worthwhile things than money, you know?” 

“Money has objective value. Everything else is subjective.” 

“I don’t put any value on cold hard cash. Doesn’t that mean it’s subjective after all?” 

Kakuzu scoffed. “You’re an outlier. Even the demons in hell use money.” 

“Hell?” Hidan chuckled. “What a dumb thing to say.” 

“What?” Kakuzu raised a brow. “Isn’t that where we damnable non-believers go?” 

Hidan laughed. “No way. We all go to the same place—Agony. It’s just that, to some folks that’s heaven, and to some folks that’s hell.” 

Kakuzu considered that, and eventually he shrugged. “Sure. Whatever you say.” 

“In eternal agony in union with Jashin-sama...” Hidan murmured, his eyes clouding slightly. “Who wouldn’t crave that...?” 

Kakuzu scoffed. “You and your damned god...” 

“He could be your god, too. He’d welcome you.” 

“I’d sooner let my insides rot.” 

Hidan chuckled. “Hey. Kakuzu.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Can I sacrifice you? Properly? Consensually, this time?” 

Again Kakuzu scoffed; didn’t reply. 

Hidan bumped his shoulder against Kakuzu’s, startling him. “C’mon. Please? I’d let you do the same to me! I could be your first sacrifice to Jashin-sama. What do you say?” 

“I say you’re mad,” Kakuzu grumbled, although his fingers twitched at the prospect. 

Hidan must’ve sensed something, because his grin only grew. “You do? Hmm? Not tempting _at all_?” 

“You’re more irritating than I anticipated,” Kakuzu growled. 

Hidan only laughed. “Too bad about that, Partner. No getting rid of me now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out this absurd little fic! :D One chapter down and two to go—they're already mostly written, so should be fairly quick! 
> 
> If you've enjoyed it so far, please do leave a comment or kudos~


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